The morning light filtered through the colored ceramic bead curtain, casting mottled shadows on the stone table. Ian observed the runes faintly visible under the woman's veil, the magical patterns subtly rising and falling with her breath, writhing like a living creature.
The clamor in the restaurant was muffled into a distant hum by the sound insulation spell, even the noise of the owner polishing the copper pot became indistinct.
This was clearly some kind of magic capable of isolating others from eavesdropping or accidentally overhearing the conversation here, already used silently.
"You saw it last night, didn't you? The situation at the temple." The woman's tone was very certain, with a sense of absolute confidence.
Ian didn't look up, still staring at the soup bowl in his hand: "You seem to know a lot."
"I only ask you," the woman in the black robe leaned slightly forward, her gaze under the veil as sharp as a blade, "do you know 'that thing'?"
In response, Ian felt no panic, remaining calm and composed. He didn't want to follow the other party's rhythm in conversation.
After all, once you fall into the other's rhythm, it makes you very passive, and Ian wasn't someone who liked being passive.
He was quite adept at social tactics and had knowledge about things like the cannibal tree, already a master of psychology back when he was a Muggle.
"It seems you know I've been to the temple?" Ian stirred the date porridge with a silver spoon, the honeyed sweetness wafting between them.
The woman's eyes curved behind the veil, indicating a smile. She reached out, took a colored bead from her ear, and gently pushed it onto the table.
When the bead rolled to Ian's side, the surface suddenly displayed the scene of the temple — the very images from last night's investigation in the temple's secret chamber. Of course, Ian wasn't in the scene, but some things moved unnaturally.
It was as if someone picked them up to examine them, and some magic potion materials disappeared out of thin air, which anyone observant could see was suspicious.
Ian became somewhat uneasy.
"What does this prove?"
He knew he couldn't admit he took those things, otherwise having to return them would be a great loss to him.
Anyway, if left in the temple, they'd just be used in that kind of evil ritual, so it might as well benefit Ian, the Master of Magic Potions.
Fortunately, the woman didn't seem inclined to press the issue.
"It doesn't prove anything, but I know it must be you."
The woman gently shook her head, the veil moving subtly: "Your illusionary body spell is extremely exquisite, I couldn't detect your trace. But I understand wizards—especially those like you, daring to question the temple's authority. Curiosity is your most fatal weakness, yet also... your most powerful weapon."
Her words were not without reason.
"Very well then."
Ian's fingertip lightly touched the colored bead, and the bizarre image immediately dissipated. This seemingly decorative trinket was actually an ingenious magic prop, able to record the magical residue of specific scenes, akin to an ancient video recorder.
It could also serve as a surveillance camera, not needing electricity, more concealed, even Ian didn't notice such traces last night.
"Get out!"
"Don't touch me!"
From the other side of the restaurant came the sound of a pottery jug smashing. Both turned their heads simultaneously and saw a drunken man being escorted out by staff. Taking advantage of this commotion, Ian lowered his voice to inquire with the veiled woman in black robes.
"What exactly are you doing? Why is the maid's body sealed? What are the priests afraid of? What are you... plotting?" He put down his spoon, leaning forward, trying to verify the information he had gathered.
Along the way, to obtain answers to puzzles he hadn't yet uncovered.
However.
The woman in black robes didn't answer. She slowly raised her hand, her fingertip softly touching her lips, the motion slow and meaningful. Then, she shook her head, her eyes showing a trace of helplessness and warning.
Ian instantly understood—the quietening spell.
An extremely ancient and powerful silencing magic, once applied, one cannot voluntarily speak about content related to specific secrets; otherwise, they would endure severe pain, even mental collapse. And more terrifyingly, this spell was often not voluntarily borne but imposed by higher authority to ensure secrets weren't leaked.
This spell would not only prevent the one under it from revealing secrets, but even distort related memories, making it impossible for outsiders to obtain intelligence through legilimency.
"All participants have it?" Ian asked in some shock. The other's action was like a lightning bolt cutting through the fog. Ian suddenly realized that perhaps all the priests involved in the temple's core rituals, even all those who knew the inside story, were subjected to similar spells. No wonder the priests were solemn yet silent about the body.
And no wonder this information hadn't been leaked because if one can't disclose it, it becomes a secret guarded by silence.
"Yes."
The woman nodded slightly, the colored beads on the veil clinking softly. Her eyes suddenly turned to the street outside—a team of temple guards was passing by, copper spears gleaming blindingly in the sunlight.
This was nothing to be worried about.
The woman merely indicated that those guards were sealed off in a similar way, perhaps even with more effective memory modification and cognitive modification than her kind of quietening.
"To obtain the truth, you must find the answers yourself." The woman resumed sipping from a bowl of hot soup that appeared on the table at some unknown time, her movements elegant and restrained, as if participating in some ritual.
Seeing this, Ian didn't pursue the matter further, just pushed the honey jar toward her: "It seems you quite wish for someone to disrupt the temple's plans."